Sins of the Father: A Paranormal Prison Romance (Sinfully Sacrified Book 1)

by Mary E. Twomey

  I don’t lay eyes on my roommates until Officer Andrews escorts us up to the third floor and leaves us without a word. We’ve got half an hour until lights out, and I don’t want to waste them talking. I spin on my heel and move into the bathroom, ignoring the stares I can still feel boring into me.

  My cuts sting like none other as I wash too much stink off my body. I can hear the girls in the stalls on either side of mine, as if they’re strategically hemming me in so I’m not alone anymore. It’s sweet.

  They’re sweet.

  The tepid water only makes me colder, so much that I’m shivering when I towel off and grab a clean uniform from the stack. My stomach still aches—a mix of hunger and the sensation of broken glass that’s ripping through my intestines. I’ll chalk that last one up to nerves.

  Normally at night, I walk around with the top orange half of my jumpsuit dangling around my waist, but tonight, I don’t want discussions about my cuts. It was a mistake, and not one that needs addressing.

  But Charlotte catches sight of the long scabby lines before I’m all dressed. She doesn’t say anything, but clears the space between us and gathers me in a hug. It’s such a jolt from having zero physical contact. Fresh air slices through my lungs. It’s relief mixed with pain, and I don’t know whether to push it away or cling to it.

  “Did you have your breakthrough?” Charlotte asks, still not letting go.

  Funny that she knows what to call it, and even seems to understand why I needed to go there. “I think so. I’m okay now. Just needed some time.”

  She releases me and loops her arm through mine, smiling gently up at me, as if nothing burdensome has ever weighed her down. “You need us, is what you need. Want to share my mattress?”

  I love her kindness. It’s never-ending and always welcome. “Thanks, but I think I should sleep in my own bed. I’ve been leaning on you all too much.”

  Cass turns off her shower and comes out completely nude, because it’s Cass, and she has no hang-ups about anything except social injustice. Gotta respect that. “Man, I’m going to kill Gray for making everything awkward. We had a good thing going, the four of us.”

  I cannot take her seriously when she’s naked like this.

  I try to play off my public humiliation like it’s no big thing. “Gray’s fine. It’s not a big deal. So I have a crush on a boy who doesn’t like me back. I just read it wrong, is all. I’ll get over it.”

  But even as I say the words so flippantly, I taste their sour untruth.

  Cass brushes her teeth in the nude, which I’ll admit, is weird. “I love this semi-private bathroom deal. Even if Gray’s out and wants to switch cells, I’m not giving up this space without a fight. It’s nice not to have to shove my way for a chance at the sink.”

  Charlotte laces her fingers through mine after she finishes dressing. “Oh, Gray’s not leaving. He’s part of the plan.”

  I groan aloud at mention of the infamous yet still nebulous plan.

  “And we finally have blood. I didn’t want to upset Rafe by asking, but I sensed blood would come to us when we needed it.”

  “What do we need blood for?” Cass spits into the sink and then finally puts on some clothes.

  “For the plan.”

  For once, Cass doesn’t seem like she’s in the loop. “You scare me sometimes. You know that, right?”

  Charlotte merely shrugs, as if things like that couldn’t possibly matter to her. Then she leads the way back into the cell.

  Once we’re inside, Cass shuts the door behind us, in case errant officers happen by.

  My heart sinks at the sight of Gray. He’s freshly scrubbed and sitting on his mattress, staring at his hands. “Ladies, could I have a minute with Arly? Would that be alright?”

  Cass moves back toward the door, but Charlotte holds her hand up. “Not until I get some of her blood. Then you can apologize all you like.”

  Cass leans against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest. “But enunciate, okay? We’ll have our ears pressed to the door, and I don’t want to miss any of the good stuff. When she tells you to go to hell, I don’t want to misunderstand and think she’s telling you to go be well. That would be anticlimactic, and I deserve a good story.”

  Charlotte sniggers, but Gray’s head pops up with a scowl. “Blood? What do you need Arly’s blood for?”

  Charlotte boops his nose. “For the plan, silly. We’re supposed to free the people. I need blood for that. Preferably Arly’s. Purest magic works best.”

  I grimace. “You’re going to have to give us the long explanation at some point, Charlotte.”

  “At tomorrow point, then,” Charlotte chooses, nodding succinctly. “Tonight’s for groveling and collecting blood.” She points at Gray. “You’re the groveler. Now go on out into the hallway. You know Rafe can’t handle watching me take a sample. And I need blood from all of us, so give me more than a papercut, but less than a headwound. I’ll just need double from Arly, since hers holds more magical weight.”

  “Oh, fine. But I agree. The long explanation is happening.” He rubs his chest, and I know Rafe is throwing a fit.

  I start to speak to the pup in my mind, but stop before I get out the second word. I’m not supposed to do that. Gray doesn’t want us connected that way.

  I can respect that. I can respect his autonomy, even if it hurts like broken bones.

  Charlotte yanks on my arm and gouges open one of my cuts. I expect her to get a little of my blood on her finger and like, I dunno, meditate with it or something. Instead she eyes the burgeoning droplets, leans over and licks them as they pool.

  “Ew! That’s not sanitary. What if I had diseases or something?”

  Cass freezes, but doesn’t pull back when Charlotte drags a chewed-open cut on Cass’ tawny knuckle over her tongue without swallowing my sample. Then she opens the door and licks a small cut on Gray’s wrist. She adds a few dots of her own blood from a cut on her finger.

  There are too many questions, but really, I’m not sure I want the answers. It’s too weird. Too gross.

  Charlotte keeps her mouth opened without swallowing, I’m not sure what could possibly make this more disgusting.

  That is, not until Charlotte closes her eyes and starts chanting with her tongue still out. I don’t understand what’s happening, and by the looks of it, neither do Gray or Cass.

  Gray shuts the door as we watch without speaking while Charlotte does her Charlotte thing. She slinks down in her meditative pose, and without needing to be told, we all do the same. Somehow we became a team in all of this, sticking together for the sake of this ominous plan we know very little about.

  Cass lets me sit between her and Charlotte in our circle, because she understands I’m not ready for contact from Gray yet. She’s a solid girlfriend for spotting that so seamlessly.

  We hold hands and close our eyes, invoking the deep breathing that connects us. I don’t know what we’re doing, but instinctively, we all know this is the thing to do.

  When I open my eyes again, I can see their auras, just like before. Excitement trips over my skin, connecting me to my mum in ways I never dreamed we’d be able to share. I’m amazed at the red-orange glow surrounding Cass, streaked with strips of yellow.

  A sudden shift, like too much gravity, tugs hard at my bones.

  Then a realization washes over me. Without having to be told, I know this means that Cass has great personal power, and she’s about to come into latent abilities. Maybe I could have guessed all that on my own, but having the colors spell it out for me humbles my understanding of the universe as I thought I knew it.

  Gray has a lemon yellow around him, which signals a fear of loss. But I look closer, and shades of forest green come to light. That tells me he’s a healer with a hint of compassion and protection thrown in. Probably Rafe does the healing with his saliva. I’ve heard dogs can do that, so I assume wolves fall into that category.

  It’s not until Cass cusses that I look over at Charlotte, takin
g in her pure pale yellow aura with royal blue brushed through.

  Without needing to be told, I know this means she’s on the verge of a psychic awakening. Mum used to narrate her interpretations of auras, but this certainty I have comes purely from intuition. There’s no textbook for this—it’s an ability thought to be extinct. The colors tell me what they mean, and it’s my job to hear them.

  The swaths of blood on Charlotte’s tongue are glowing, and judging by Cass’ and Gray’s astonishment, they can at least see the light coming from Charlotte’s tongue, even if they’re blind to the auras that are around us individually.

  I study Charlotte’s tongue. There’s a red-orange-yellow light coming from one spot that must be Cass’ blood, next to yellow-green, which is Gray, then a yellow-blue for Charlotte, and a… is that red and gold? Is that me?

  Gold means I have protectors looking out for me, and the red indicates that I have strong survival instincts.

  It’s hard to swallow. I don’t feel any of those things, but I make the decision to trust in the wish my aura has for me. Hopefully it knows more than I do.

  “It’s our auras.” Certainty bolsters me, even though I have no proof or proper education to back that up. “Gray’s wolf is a healer and he himself is a protector who’s afraid of loss. Cass is powerful, and is about to come into some dormant abilities. Charlotte’s on the verge of a psychic breakthrough, and I’m…” The words die on my lips.

  They don’t need to know about me.

  It’s then Charlotte chomps down on her tongue, startling noises from the three of us. I know Charlotte’s blood is blooming because a blue glow takes over the party on her tongue.

  Her incoherent chant grows louder, more insistent, and I find that whatever it is she’s trying to do, I want her to accomplish it.

  But when her aura starts muddling and then mixing, that’s when I have something to say. “Charlotte, your aura’s changing! It was blue and yellow, but now it’s got all of us in there. It’s not supposed to do that!”

  When she makes a show of pulling in her tongue and swallowing hard, I shout childishly for her to undo it.

  But it’s done. Whatever this is.

  Charlotte’s smile returns, but her aura is forever changed. She’s now got clear shades of all of us streaked through the blue-yellow light that was purely her just a second ago. “We did it. Good job, guys.”

  Gray’s hesitance mirrors my dread. “What did we just do?”

  She squeezes my hand. “We’re connected now. Wherever your blood is, I’ll be able to find you. It’s part of the plan.”

  18

  First Relationship

  I have so many questions. How is being connected going to serve us? Shouldn’t Charlotte maybe ask if we wanted to be connected? We let Charlotte lick our blood without getting answers to our many questions. We still don’t have answers. I’ve been fit with a tracker plenty of times, and it didn’t reassure me as much as Daddy hoped after my abduction. The fact that Charlotte can now locate us doesn’t feel like a good sign, even if it’ll prove helpful down the road. Does this mean we’re going to be separated at some point?

  And most importantly, what is the stinking plan?

  But of course, I can’t ask any of that, since the second I open my mouth to do so, the loudspeaker gives us the five-minute warning that lights out is coming.

  Charlotte stands and reaches over to cup Gray’s shoulder. “We’ll leave you two alone so you can talk.”

  Cass and Charlotte move toward the door, but I stop them. “No need. We’re good. I get it. I don’t want the big conversation.” I force a wan smile in Gray’s direction, but I don’t have it in me to meet his eyes, which are finally pointed at me. “Have a good night, everyone.”

  Why do they not have ladders for these bunks? I must’ve missed the pole-vaulting lessons in acclimation. No matter. I keep my chin high as I grip the top frame like I’ve seen Cass do a million times.

  Or like, a dozen. We haven’t actually known each other all that long. Being tall, as I am, doesn’t make me graceful at things like this.

  I cringe at my naïvety. Why would I assume Gray would want to be my boyfriend after knowing him for not even a month?

  It’s pathetic.

  But it’s behind me. It’ll be a new day tomorrow, and I’ll have the brain space to handle it all then.

  After I get up on this bloody bed.

  “Please, Arly-girl. Don’t do that. You don’t want to sleep alone, and you know it. It’s a big deal, what happened yesterday. I didn’t know how to handle it. Still don’t.” He harrumphs at himself. “I overreacted. I know you weren’t trying to own me. But ‘boyfriend’? That’s a fae thing. I don’t know how to do that.”

  “It’s fine. I read into things. I get it. But I can’t sleep next to you, or I’ll just get more attached.” Despite my protest that the girls don’t need to leave, they do anyway. “And don’t call me Arly-girl,” I hiss with too much of my festering wound coming through.

  I dial back the venom as much as I can, ironing out the indignation on my face.

  Gray touches my hips, shooting heat through my body, which only serves to remind me of how cold I am. His voice tries to be soothing. “You don’t know my story, and I don’t know yours. No matter how well we work in the dark, the light proves how different we are.”

  “Too different. I get it. Like I said, I don’t need the explanation. Goodnight, Gray.”

  “He heard you last night,” Gray rasps, like he doesn’t want to admit this part to me. He rubs his chest, and I know he means Rafe. “I kept transitioning without meaning to. One minute, me. The next minute, Rafe. Cass and Charlotte didn’t sleep much. None of us did.”

  “I’ll make sure to apologize to them when they get back in.” Again, I try to hoist myself up and get halfway there, my leg kicking and just missing the edge of the mattress.

  This is humiliating.

  Gray exhales, like he’s not saying what he means to communicate. “Would you stop and look at me?”

  I drop down, huffing my indignation. “What, Gray? What do you want to say?”

  Now that he’s got my undivided attention, he runs his hand through his russet, silky hair, like he doesn’t know what to do with it. Like he doesn’t know what that does to me.

  “I don’t know how to do this,” he admits. “I didn’t count on falling for anyone in here. I’ve never been with a fae before. In fact, I don’t know any shifters who’ve ever been with a fae. I have no frame of reference for this. Your people will hate you for wanting to be with me.” He motions between us. “When it’s just us in here, you make me forget all the things we’ve been taught to remember.”

  “What have you been taught that I make you forget?”

  “That fae claim each other and use that as a right to get all jealous and controlling. I’m not like that.”

  “You think I’m jealous and controlling?”

  Gray pinches the bridge of his nose. “No! But relationships are different in my circle than they are in yours. Plus, I’ve been taught my whole life that people like you are trouble.”

  I rear back. “People like me?”

  “Privileged fae. I grew up understanding that fae are liars. That they care more about money than they do about substance. All surface. I can’t make that work in the real world. I belong in a pack, not with a fae.”

  I don’t bother arguing. It’s not far off from the truth. I’ve been schooled on the dangers of shifters, as well. I just chose not to buy into it once I actually got to know Gray a little bit. “Noted. Sorry to have made you uncomfortable. It won’t happen again.”

  “I made myself uncomfortable, not you. Please, Arly. I’m trying to wrap my head around it, and I froze out in the yard. Then you go put yourself in solitary? Why’d you do that? I would’ve handled Ursa for you.”

  My eyes blaze with too much intensity. “I handled her. I don’t need a big man to come in and save the day every time. Not one who thinks I�
�m a vain, lying fool.”

  “You know I don’t think those things about you.”

  I bristle with all the rage of the spoiled princess I sometimes am. “Do you know who I am?”

  Gray’s jaw sets. “You’re Conan Valentine’s daughter. You’re a fae.”

  Pride roils through my veins. “Then that’s all I’ll ever be to you. Forget the fact that I’m a woman who knows what she wants and goes after it.” My fists clench. “Did you know I’m the highest paid model? Ever? Do you know who negotiated the terms of my contract? Not my father. Me.”

  He raises his arms in surrender. “I didn’t know that.”

  “I’m not some flighty nothing who can’t think her way through a paper bag. I wanted to be with you because I was sure you were one of the few men who could see me through the image that’s been painted of who I’m supposed to be, and how I’m supposed to be seen.” I throw my arms up. “And do you even want to be with another woman in here?”

  He blanches. “Obviously not.”

  “Then what ‘ownership’ are you afraid of?” I shake my head, more mad at myself than at him. “It doesn’t matter. All you saw was an idiot fae. Don’t know why I bothered, when you’re just like everyone else.”

  Gray rears back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Maybe you’re more fae than I am. You settle for surface judgments because it’s easier than going out on a limb and examining that you might be wrong about your belief system. It’s lazy and smallminded, and you’re right: I can’t make it work with someone like that.”

  “I was wrong, okay? Clearly, I don’t know how to date a fae woman.”

  “Goodnight, Gray.”

  He makes to touch my face, but pauses an inch from my cheek, no doubt sensing the direct hit of “don’t you dare” radiating from me. “You marked yourself up. Why’d you do that?”

  “Because I’m all surface and no substance.” Maybe that was catty, but I don’t care. I’m tired and I want to get situated before the lights go out. I don’t have nearly enough food in me to exert any real energy, but somehow, this next jump is filled with enough desire to get away from this conversation that I finally clear the hurdle. I’m on top of the mattress, too near the ceiling, and I did it myself. “Make sure the girls come back in before lights out, will you? I’m turning in.”